The Piercing Eyes of a Stranger
by frizzles
Summary: When Katara starts ninth grade, she figures North High Academy will be the same as it has always been; cruel and unforgiving. But she never expected to be thrown into the life of another. Au Zutara
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Avatar is not mine, but if someone wants to give it to me it would be a nice Christmas present.**

_Ch. 1_

"_Mom...Mom...Mom," a young girl wailed, as she sobbed hysterically. Flakes of ash swept softly onto her face, gently landing on the tears flowing fastly from her eyes. A large crash sounded, and the roof of a three story building collapsed into an angry mouth of flames. "Mom," the young girl screamed more hysterical than ever. She broke into a coughing fit as a cloud of smoke penetrated her lungs. Strange men came running towards her, shoving a mask over her face and surrounding her as if she were a prey cornered by its fierce predator. The girl, suddenly violently threw the mask off, and tried to run screaming through the wall holding her in. Instead of backing away, the wall moved in closer, consuming her until her head began spinning fast from nauseation. A burning sensation filled her stomach and throat. She stumbled, but the wall of predators held her tightly in. The acid building in her stomach came into her throat like a tidal wave crashing onto a sandy beach. Now, a woman broke through the circle. The circle the girl had tried so fruitlessly to escape. Grabbing the girl gently by the arm, the woman pulled her toward a wailing car. "It's okay Katara," she soothed, "Everything is fine." All of a sudden, fierce shouts broke out and the girl turned as quickly as her aching body would allow her to find a body bruised, scarred, and burning red, almost inhuman being carried on a stretcher out of the dilapidated building. _

Suddenly, I woke. Beads of cold sweat trickled down my forehead and off my nose. The single sheet I sleep on lay twisted and warped at the end of the bed. I sighed shakily; I'd had the dream again. The same dream that has been visiting my sleep for the past three weeks. It grows more vivid every time it plays itself in my mind.

This time, the woman's face was more distinct. For weeks, I've been dreading that I will have to see that face; the bloody lifeless face of a limp woman. "Just forget it," I said to myself quietly, trying to soothe the aching feeling in my chest, "You won't see her, you can't." Turning to check the clock, I saw my roommate staring at me with a strange glint n her eye.

"Freak," she whispered as she turned onto her side, leaving me to stare at the back of her blue striped pajamas. Even in the dark, I could make out the name Mai embroidered on the neckline. For a second, I envied my roommate. Her pajamas look soft, comfortable, and even pretty. All I can boast to sleep in is an old baggy T-shirt that reads "North High Soccer."

The funny thing about my sleep attire is that I don't even play soccer. When I started school here, I was given it when no one claimed it from the lost and found. North High Academy is a boarding school situated in the wealthy end of Chicago. It consists of a middle school and high school. Most kids do not enroll at North High until they reach ninth grade, which is what happened to me.

I have only being living in this prison for a month and it has already turned out to be almost too much to bear. Calling it a prison might be a bit of an exaggeration. Everything is top class, which is way many of Chicago's wealthiest send their children here, but I am definitely not a child of money. Every year, the school gives out three scholarships to kids in lacking situations. My tenth grade brother and I were two of the three "lucky" (sarcasm) children picked to be admitted here and I've been dreading it. An admittance given to me on scholarship, a scholarship not earned. Being randomly picked of a list of orphans running loose around downtown Chicago, does not seem like a legitimate reason to be thrown in a boarding school. Though technically, I'm not an orphan, my father's just missing.

The theory I conjectured for the puzzlement of being admitted to this place, is that the North High board of Legislators want their school to seem like they care about the poor lower class citizens of their "beautiful city." But, all that happens when we walk through the halls is that were taunted and ridiculed. Trash, garbage, and an array of more colorful names seem to be the only words the more fortunate kids know to call us. The alarm clock blares, making the time of 5:30 known to the room.

Jill throws off her covers; she has more than one, and walks over to our bathroom without even glancing at me. Today starts as prosaic as any other day. Since, Jill never gives consideration to the need that I might need to use the restroom; I grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and start in the direction of the girl's locker room. The hall is empty. No trouble meets me on the way down the three hallways.

The boys' wing of the high school is on the opposite side of the school. Girls are not allowed to go in the boys' dorms, but most girls don't follow that rule. I've broken it several times to visit my brother. His roommate, Aang, is probably the only nice person I've met so far. Luckily, Aang's schedule includes three of my classes; geometry (I hate this class), P.E, and biology (My favorite class). The bathroom is pitch black, because the janitor hasn't been around and turned the lights on yet.

Each morning, I enter to bathroom to be greeted by impenetrable darkness. Like each morning, I maneuver across the tingling cold tile to the light switch by the showers. Garish lights flash into my eyes, making me blink at the intensity of the illumination. A few minutes later, I'm back in my bedroom grabbing the first shirt in the drawer. Spending too much time in that small room makes me feel compressed.

Even though it is six in the morning, Sokka's standing outside the vending machine buying a snickers bar for seventy-five cents.

"What's happening," he yells from down the hall loud enough to wake the already always cranky North High boys, "Just getting some breakfast."

"That's nutritious," I say as I slump lazily against the hard wall.

"What do you want, reeses or butterfingers?"

"Do I have to say?"

"Of course I know Sis, but I felt like asking anyway. One reeses veaneuz bienetôte."

"Sokka, I believe its venez bientôt, not the weird thing you just said."

"Woahhhh, what's with that language? I'm telling you Katara; next you're come home to tell me you got a brand new tattoo that says _I love metallica_.

Oh, do I love Sokka. Even if I listened to metallica it's not like I'd tell him. I'm more of the jazzy, Nina Simone kind of girl. As I took a bite of my chocolate bar, I realized how much I like reeses. It had never died on me, disappeared from me, or told me everything was going to be okay when it really wasn't. Reeses will always be with me and not be able to go away when I don't want it to. Well, it will, but I'll just have to buy a new one.

* * *

As soon as eight came, I found myself trudging up the endless staircases to my English room on the top floor of the building. Mrs. Wick, like usual, is sitting in her old rocking chair covered with a green and black checkered quilt. This morning, her gray wiry hair is sticking up in strands off the top of her head. Her intense vulture-like eyes are scanning the room for any imperfections the students are showing.

As soon as one of my classmates walks in the room, she notices that his shirt is sticking out in the back and barks at him to tuck it in all the way around. I also notice that Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai enter the room right before the tardy bell rings. Azula flashes me a smirk, before sitting down in her desk.

Not today. I don't need any more trouble. I've been here a month, and for some reason, Azula has made it her plan to make my life miserable. Everyone tries to stay away from Azula and her pack of mongrels, but sometimes it is just inevitable.

Today, Ty Lee looks perky in a bright (very bright) pink sweater and black miniskirt. The big furry boots she's wearing look out of place in September. Mai looks normal caked in black mascara and dark baggy clothes. Azula however, looks like any other kid wearing a plain button down shirt and kaki capris. But, I like to say to my brother that you can feel the evil radiating off her body. Sokka just laughs, rubs my head, and goes back to eating his candy bar.

"Today's assignment will be to write a two page essay on how Shakespeare's writing influenced the future generations…after he died," Mrs. Wick says in her nasally voice, breaking me out of my stupor. The whole class gave a loud groan, as if on command. I just chuckled and got out my books. I prefer to work alone; it's less complicated.

The class period soon ended, and I gave my completed paper to Mrs. Wick on my way out. Biology is next, and today I am especially excited because a doctor from the local hospital is going to give a presentation about his average day working in the E.R.

"Welcome, sit, don't be shy," my biology teacher booms as the students enter the room.

"Hello Ms. Linwell," I say grinning as I take my seat. She smiles back and says how happy she is that I made it to class today. Her flashy palm tree shirt goes perfect with her eccentric personality. If there was one person I could listen to for hours, it would be Ms. Linwell.

"Class, I would like to introduce you to one of my favorite doctors. His name is Dr. JC Roberts. Come up Dr. Roberts and take the spotlight," Ms. Linwell said gesturing to a man standing in the back end of the room.

The man walked up to the front of the room and turned to look at us with a dazzling bright smile on his face. All at once, the girls in the room let a huge sigh. His face looks like that of a Greek god. His black eyes contrast nicely with his high cheek bones and dimpled chin. I feel like a girl from a movie gazing at the dreamy boy who just moved in right next to her. But then Dr. Robert's is probably around thirty-five and I'm fifteen. It's just harmless staring.

But as Dr. Roberts started talking about his career, I became more serious. Some of the other kids snickered at me as I took out my notebook and pen to take notes, but I didn't care. My life's ambition is to be a doctor, and I'm not going to miss out on a chance to learn more about it because some kids have a stick stuck in their pants (that's how I feel about it anyways.)

The class blew by like a sweet memory. I hung onto every word Dr. Roberts said. When the bell rang an hour after the class began, I felt like I'd only been listening to the doctor's pleasant words for five minutes. Aang came running after me right as I entered the hall. Today is the only day I have forgotten that Aang is in my class.

"That guy was pretty cool, wasn't he?" Aang said as more of a statement than a question, "He seemed like he really knew what he was talking about."

"Yeah, the ten years of schooling probably helped." I said making my way to the gym.

"What do you think were playing in gym today?"

"I don't care, as long as it's not any more football."

"What?" Sokka said as if appalled, as he rounded a corner joining Aang and I, "Katara, you don't like the man on man touching, or the way the boys always take their shirts off in the middle of the match."

"Spare me," I said rolling my eyes. Leave it to Sokka to make everything perverted. But I do have to say that one of the sophomore guys has quite the nice six-pack.

"Today, Mrs. Kingle had something stuck tightly; I can't say this enough, tightly in her pants," Sokka said lightly, "Well, I might have done a tiny, little, barely noticeable thing, and because of that little thing, I was given a detention."

"Another one," I said exasperated, "This is your third one already in one month, you want to get kicked out of this school."

"I was just having a little bit of fun. Everyone here is just wound up too tightly."

"What did you do?" I said in an I'm-not-going-to-let-you-get-away-with-this-one tone.

"Well," Sokka said chuckling, "This is my class, so I won't be able to tell you at this moment, but it's not that important."

"Sokka, I will find out," I screamed as I got bumped and pushed down the packed corridor.

Aang just chuckled. His smile was so bright I couldn't help smiling myself. I may be angry at Sokka, but who couldn't be happy when they're around such a carefree kid like Aang. I waved goodbye to Aang, and stealthy slipped into the girl's locker room. I found an empty shower and changed in there. My mother's necklace dangled against my skin, sending a chill up my spine. Its cool stone contrasted with my warm skin.

When I crept out of the locker room, I realized there was a new girl sitting on the end of the bench. Her hair, shoulder length and dark brown, looks nice against her creamy skin. When she entered the gym, she waved and ran over to me. Her shorts, baggy and long, blew a little behind her as she ran.

"Hi, I'm Suki," she said smiling, "I just moved here from Michigan. My dad's company transferred him."

"My name's Katara," I said smiling back, "How long have you been here?"

"Today's my first day here, but we moved around a week ago. Not everyone here seems very friendly."

As she said that I burst out laughing, "This is my first year here too, and I haven't been feeling that much warmth from the students either."

Maybe this school would become a little more bearable; maybe not much, but with a friend improvements could be made.

**Hope you like it so far. Zuko hasn't been introduced yet, but a Zutara this will be. ****Don't forget to press the little button down there that says review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**ATLA is not mine. **

**Thanks to****xxjazzygurlxx**** for the suggestions, you gave me ideas.**

**Jill was an accident, it's Mai.**

**Ch. 2**

As Suki and I walked onto the school grounds, I thought of how the sky looked extra blue today, the sun shining like the prettiest bulb on the Christmas tree, and the sky only consisting of one giant fluffy pure white cloud. All the lunch tables were filled up, so we took the more natural way of eating outside.

"My brother and his friend will meet us out here," I said as I sat down underneath a large oak tree.

"You have a brother here?" Suki asked sitting down next to me, "My sister is in fourth grade, but my parents won't send her here until she's a ninth grader."

"My brother's a sophomore, but sometimes I think he has the maturity of a fourth grader."

"Is that you're brother?" Suki asked smiling pointing to the taller boy of the two walking towards us, "The one with the buzz and ponytail?"

"That would be Sokka."

The color on Suki's cheeks rose to a bright pink as Sokka gave her a slight smile and sat down in front of us.

"Hi, I'm Aang," my bald-headed friend grinned, "Are you new here."

"Yes, I just moved here. But I like it so far," Suki said in a cheery way that brought a smile to my face.

"Well, I'm glad someone likes it here," Sokka said in an angry voice, "Because I certainly don't. I'm about ready to kill that stupid Zuko boy."

Aang just sat there, trying to keep a straight face, but the strain of it was causing his face to turn red.

"What happened," I asked humoring Sokka. I could tell he was just dying to tell me what that stupid Zuko did. Zuko's been here as long as I have, but I've never seen him more than a few times because he's two grades ahead of me, but a lot of locker room gossip evolves around Zuko's sexy six pack and jet black wavy hair.

"I was just minding my own business at practice when I was thrown down with tremendous force by Zuko."

"I'm sure you didn't do anything to make Zuko angry at you either," I said rolling my eyes."

"Sis, you know he has a bad temper. You've heard stories."

"But they're all stories. I don't know which ones are true and which are false. For all I know, they could have been made up by people who got in fights with Zuko and exaggerated the story just like you. Because I know you probably did something that pissed him off."

At this Aang started laughing and nodding his head vigorously. Suki looked appalled about the fact that Sokka had been tremendously thrown down and that Aang was laughing about it.

"Aang, can I hear the whole story?" I asked calmly taking a bit of my macaroni and cheese.

"Well, I was standing in the goal box, and Sokka was dribbling the ball toward me. Zuko came in and stole the ball from Sokka, but knocked him over in the process. I heard something come from Sokka about dirty socks and a prickly cactus. Not sure exactly what he said, but Zuko pushed him down," Aang said laughing as Sokka shot him an annoyed look.

I just closed my eyes and leaned against the tree, trying not to imagine what Sokka said. A bird whistled near by and reminded me of my clarinet. The clarinet that has been with me since before I came to this miserable place.

"Katara, I would love you forever and ever if you got my soccer bag from the field. I accidently left it there?" Sokka asked in a whiney voice.

"Just get it yourself."

"If I'm late to my next class, I'll get another tardy from that old hag Mrs. Krig and then I'll get a detention because I've already gotten as many tardies as I can get."

"Fine," I said sighing. No matter how much I hate letting Sokka have his way, I'm more concerned about him getting kicked out of the school. Were not exactly paying a tuition to come here and they could replace us with someone who is a lot more behaved than Sokka.

A few large dark clouds blew into my beautiful blue sky blocking my shiny sun from few. The sky looked even more ominous as I walked toward the fields, which happen to be a good distance from the school, so if there is a downpour, the only shelter is the small supplies shed.

As the fields came into a view, I could make out one lone figure juggling a red and black ball.

"Oh great," I muttered at Zuko's midnight hair and lean frame. I could make out Sokka's torn and cruddy bag at a spot about five feet from where Zuko stood. I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer that Zuko doesn't know I'm Sokka's sister. I get enough trouble from Azula and don't need anymore.

A happy smirk came unto Zuko's face as I walked closer and surge of anger burned through me.

"So that idiot's your brother," Zuko said arrogantly as I picked up my brother's bag.

"Yes, that idiot is my brother and because he's my brother, I'm the only one with the right to call him that. You can think he's an idiot, you can tell yourself he's an idiot, and you can tell other people he's and idiot, but you're not going to tell me that," I said in a stream of annoyed anger.

"Is that so," Zuko said putting an even bigger smirk on his face, "At least I know how to player soccer. That clumsy kid wouldn't be able to score if his life depended on it."

"Oh," I said in a rising voice, "You are so full of it. I don't know how it's possible that Chicago's snobbiest, cockiest, and most arrogant kids were all put in the same school. "Obviously you've been too pampered in your short life. Whatever you get from the other girls, you're certainly not going to get from me." With that I turned and walked away. I considered that a win for me because he had nothing to say back.

As I walked back, the rain came down like small bullets falling from the sky. It didn't bother me; maybe the intensity of it would wash away the anger building up inside me.

I showed up to jazz band ten minutes late, but my teacher didn't say anything considering the fact he could probably tell I was in no mood for conversation. When I started playing, the music danced through me, washing away my anger better than the rain did. For a second, I forgot that I was in crappy hand-me downs, that my school hates me, and that I just got in a fight with one of the cockiest kids in the school.

The music of Duke Ellington filled my thoughts, and I needed nothing more. Class ended too soon, but I decided I'd find an abandoned room to practice in.

"Ah, there's the band geek," a wretchedly familiar voice said standing by the water fountains a few paces away from where I stood.

"Nice to see you too Azula," I said backing away in the other direction, but Azula saw my hesitation.

"Mai, Ty Lee, and I were just taking a stroll, and we heard some lovely music coming from that room. We had no idea you played the clarinet," Azula said in a mock sweet tone, "Well, I decided that I would like to try to play you're clarinet. You know I've never played one and thought it would be fun to try."

"Don't even come near my clarinet," I said fiercely, hugging it close to my body. The gleam from Azula's eyes told me she had found a weakness in me; a weakness she would use. It was my fault too; something that could have been easily avoided if I didn't speak so quickly and intensely.

"We thought you might say that. Mai, Ty Lee, you know what to do," Azula said in a bored tone.

"Leave her alone," a voice barked, driving Mai and Ty Lee back a few steps.

"Oh hello Zu-Zu, glad you've come to join us," Azula said laughingly as her tall brother joined their circle. His presence was dominating. He had on a fresh pair of jeans and a black Nike shirt, which contrasted greatly to his sweaty soccer clothes. I took in a quick breath. It never hit me until now; Azula and Zuko are brother and sister.

"Leave her alone," he repeated in the same stern voice; his eyes never wavering from his sisters, the golden iris's suddenly hard.

"Fine," Azula said and Ty Lee and Mai followed her down the hall, "Just for now though," she added before they disappeared around the corner.

"I had that totally under control," I suddenly shouted out. Zuko had just rescued me, but I was mad at him. Mad at him for no reason, just mad at him for being there.

"That's a nice way to show you're gratitude. I just saved you from Azula and her derisive cronies and all I do is get yelled at," he said, a smirk coming onto his lips, replacing the tight stern line that had just been there, "Stay away from her though," he said, his face darkening once again, "Nothing good ever comes out of her."

"Oh thanks for telling me that," I said sarcastically, "It's kind of hard to stay away from her when her best friend's you're roommate and she seems to find you and torment you for the fun of it." His face darkened even more and a deep scowl settled onto his face.

"I would stay away from you're room as much as possible then. None of them are good. They're just puppets to Azula, doing whatever she pleases."

"Thanks for the warning," I said in my same sarcastic tone, "But I already had that much figured out. And the only time I ever go in my room is to sleep at night." Zuko just murmured something incomprehensible and we started walking towards the library where Aang and Sokka would be waiting for me.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, I having no intention of breaking it, but Zuko did. "So, you play the clarinet?" he asked casually.

"Yes," I said simply. That's what he wanted to know, so I didn't have to say anything further than that.

"For how long?"

"Since I was six. My father played it, and he gave me his." Why in the world did I just tell him that? Sensing that this is a sensitive subject, Zuko didn't say anything more.

We walked in silence until we reached the library, where a few girls gave me some nasty stares, but I didn't mind in the least. Zuko isn't anything to me, so they can have him back as soon as I'm sitting at one of the tables doing my homework.

"Do you come here often?" he asked as I was opening up the large doors to walk in."

"Every day," I said and shut the door.

I found my table of friends, but I was too perplexed to truly concentrate on my homework.

**Yay! There you go for Ch. 2; hoped you liked it. And remember, reviews are always wonderful and I always like to hear you're ideas and ways to make the story better. **


	3. Chapter 3

**ATLA is not mine. (Does anyone know when the season is resuming? I can't wait for the next episode.)**

**School is officially stupid, though I've never really liked it. I hate science fair; I don't understand why we have to do it year after year after year. I hope you enjoy my next chapter more than I enjoy stupid science fair.**

**Ch. 3 "A day at the fields"**

_ Five days shalt thou labour, as the Bible says. _

_ The seventh day is the Lord thy God's. _

_ The sixth day is for soccer – Anthony Burgess._

"You gonna eat that?" Sokka asks eyes narrowed at the untouched cookie on my plate.

"You can have it," I say giving the cookie to him. On normal occasions I would have said no just to tease him, but not being in the teasing mood, Sokka got off easy.

"I heard from Haru, who heard from Jasmine, who heard from Tammy, who heard from Lily, who heard from Ashley that you were seen with ZUKO ALONE in the hallway." Sokka holding his knife in a strange jousting position jabs it in the air on every word he speaks

"Yeah," I say rolling my eyes, "But today, I was also seen alone with Aang and Suki."

"That is completely different. Zuko is a bad kid. He beats people up and skips class and I hear his father is also really bad and he has a really nasty scar and"

"He's a better soccer player than you," I say cutting Sokka off in mid-sentence, though you couldn't really call it a sentence, "And he saved me from getting attacked by Azula and her posse. He's not that bad of a kid." Why I am I defending someone I'm still mad at.

"That's for me to decide," Sokka says in a huffy haughty voice.

"Just eat your cookie."

* * *

Instead of sleeping in on most normal Saturdays, today I find myself walking out to the soccer fields where I have a feeling; all the screaming girls are here to see Zuko.

"Hey Suki," I say beaming as she joins me on my caravan to the field, "You don't look as tired as me."

"I am so excited. My dad is a soccer fanatic always watching, playing, or coaching soccer. He passed his love of the sport on to me. I was really disappointed when I found out I was too late to join the girl's team," Suki says with all the enthusiasm of a second grader with a new toy truck.

"I tried to play it once, but I wasn't very good. I think I ended up on the ground with a sore butt and a bruise on my forehead."

"What position does Sokka play?" Suki asks eying the boys running up and down the field in they're warm-ups.

"He's a midfielder."

The student section of the stadium is overfilling with students, and I would rather not sit there, but I can't turn down Suki's pleading eyes. So, instead of being warm and cozy in my nice bed, I'm stuck between some stupid senior boy and Suki and below some of the giddiest, screamiest, obsessed girls I've ever seen.

As soon as Zuko is announced, the girl's behind me break out in the loudest and obnoxious cheers. Frankly, I see nothing special in him; he's just a cocky kid and probably a narcissist too.

The starters slowly make they're way out to the field, some stretching and others just jogging in a circle. Aang is in goal and Zuko is up top. Poor Sokka is sitting on the bench. The bright yellow jerseys of North High's Jaguars contrast with the dark shaggy locks of Zuko's hair creating a severe, but pleasing effect; which is about the only thing that Zuko has going for him. That and his rock hard abs, strong arms and legs, and Katara why don't you just shut up.

At half-time, the score is zero to zero. The first half was very frustrating, the ball never seeming to be in possession of one team for more than two minutes. Zuko was elbowed in the face, but refused to leave the field when asked if he was okay. The girls behind me thought that that was the most wonderful thing, and he was being extremely brave. I personally think he just didn't want to lose any of his pride.

Five minutes into the second half, the stupid senior next to me spilled his coke down my pants, leaving me to try to dry it with paper towels in the girls' bathroom, which didn't really do much. The score still being a tie, the coach hasn't put Sokka in yet, much to Suki's dismay.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, he has the ball, he's going to score, he's going to score, look at him, look look," a girl behind me is squealing, with the score board reading sixty seconds left to go.

Zuko, dribbling through the line of defense makes a quick move and cut and takes a hard shot at the goalie. The crowd erupts into cheers as the ball buries itself in the back of the net. Suki is going crazy along with the rest of the girls, but I can't help thinking he's going to be really full of it today; scoring the winning goal.

"Can we stay and wait for Sokka?" Suki asks, watching the boys file into the locker rooms.

"I would rather not."

"Please, I don't want to stay here by myself." After more arguing, and being forced against my wishes, I'm waiting outside the boys' locker with Suki and bunch of other silly girls.

Sokka, with a glum look on his face, walks slowly toward us.

"Hey," I say, sympathetic to the fact that he looks like a whipped dog, "Maybe you'll get to play in the next game. Aren't you going to play a team next game last year that you guys beat five to zero? I'm sure the coach will put you in then."

"Probably not, he never puts me in," Sokka says glumly, but his eyes look a little more hopeful.

"But at least you won," Suki puts in glancing at all the celebrating players and then back at Sokka's slumped gloomy frame.

"Oh crap! I left my purse in the stands." I exclaim glancing at my bare arm. It's my favorite, although it's my only purse. It's green and red plaid, kind of out of style, but still really cute nonetheless, "I'll go back and get it."

"Do you want us to wait for you?"

"It's okay, I'll catch up."

Because the stands are filled with the debris from the game, I find my purse buried under a popcorn bucket and two Snicker wrappers. The only defect is a drying brown spot probably from a coke, on the lower bottom of the purse.

"Probably from that stupid senior," I mutter. All the screaming girls at the boys' locker room are now gone, except for one solitary figure: Zuko.

"Decided not to go with all your screaming fans," I say briskly, getting a chuckle from Zuko.

"No, but they were pretty excited about my goal."

"How did I know? How did I know? I knew as soon as I talked to you, you would say something about making the winning goal," I say curtly. Much to my agitation, he just puts a wide smirk on his face.

"It was pretty good wasn't it," He says with as much as an arrogant air as if he were Zeus.

"No, it wasn't. Before you shot you almost tripped, and if it wasn't for the midfielder on the right distracting one of the defenders, your goal never would have happened." Much to my satisfaction his smirk disappeared.

"Well sorry it wasn't to your liking, but if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't have won the game." What a jerk.

"If it wasn't for Aang's six saves in the goal you wouldn't have won the game either."

"Why aren't you like the other girls," Zuko says intensely, "Why don't you just congratulate me like they do?"

"Instead of congratulate, you mean hang all over you like you're the king of France. Well excuse me if I have morals," I scream angrily. Zuko really has a way of making me angry and not just annoyed angry like Sokka.

"Morals! All you have to say is nice job, or that was a good goal," Zuko says fiercely back. His Hazel eyes are huge in their anger; glowing in the light of the sun. If I wasn't so angry, I'd tell him his eyes are looking very pretty.

"I think the whole team did a good job, and I would have said it personally to you, if you weren't being such a butt."

Zuko chuckles and it's not a derisive chuckle. "Butt! Who uses that word anymore?"

"People who don't like to swear," I mutter, "I believe there are other words perfectly acceptable to use instead of cussing."

"So, are you telling me that when you get really angry; so angry you just want to explode, you don't swear? You just say your dainty little words like butt," Zuko says, though the anger from his face is all gone, now there's just laughter.

"Yes! And the only person who's ever made me super angry is you."

"And yet you just called me a butt."

"Well, if you would rather be called a butthead, I can readily oblige you," I say, thinking that one of Zuko's fan girls would probably kill me if they heard how I am talking to him.

"Katara! What are you doing?" Sokka says storming toward us, dragging poor Suki behind him, "I gave you permission to get your purse, not have a conversation with this maniac." Zuko just glared at Sokka, probably just as annoyed as me.

"Our conversation just ended, but I'm certain that I can talk to whoever I want to." I say pointedly.

"Well! I don't give you permission to talk to him." Sokka says angrily grabbing my arm and pulling me away, "He doesn't deserve your conversation."

* * *

Because on Saturday night's the kids are far away from the classrooms, I find the music room deserted. The familiar walls with pictures of famous jazz artists like Nina Simone and Glen Miller make me feel happier than I've felt all day. Carefully, I assemble my clarinet. The silver keys shimmer in the dim light of the room, and the black of the body blends in with the darkness around me.

The school's music appreciation week is coming up, and two days are dedicated to jazz. The jazz band I'm in is going to play at a jazz dance being hosted by one of the local jazz clubs who's going to provide the music after us. Mr. Nepter, my band instructor, said the three best kids will get to do a blue's scale improv solo. I want that solo, and I'm going to get it.

I pull out the paper containing the different blue's scales and pick the b flat scale. I play the notes carefully, starting low and soft, eventually rising in volume and notes, then going back down. Eventually, I build up to high sweet note and just hold it, loud and clear, then in rapid playing fall down to the bottom of my range. The notes fill the room around me, bouncing off the walls and desks and into my head. The music is like a drug, filling my head and making me dizzy.

The sounds, all different and unique travel around me. Soon I'm with my idols belting out my notes on stage, being cheered for crazily by a huge crowd. My solo comes and everyone goes quiet with anticipation. By the end everyone's cheering so loudly, I can't even hear myself play anymore. Then the lights, sounds, and music are broken by the P.A system announcing curfew is in ten minutes.

**Hoped you guys enjoyed that chapter. Your reviews make want to keep writing, so I love to read them all. **


	4. Chapter 4

**ATLA is not mine (If only)**

**Ch.4 "A Taste of Jazz"**

"_It don't mean a thing if it ain't got swing," Duke Ellington._

Silently I sit in my chair. I'm the next in line to audition. As I glance back at all kids behind me from affluent families, I can't help but wonder if some of their parents would be angry if I beat out their sons or daughters. I drum my fingers quietly against the wall I'm sitting against. My mind is at peace, no nervousness is with me now. My clarinet never makes me nervous; it just gives me pure joy and excitement.

"Katara, it's your turn," Henry Jones abruptly says to me as he comes out of the band room, "But don't even bother trying, because I'm pretty sure Kyle and I got it and there's no way he'll give it to you."

"Thanks for your encouragement," I say dryly, "I'll remember it when I'm auditioning."

I jerk my head to the side and walk into the room, one of my braids smacking his face.

The room is quiet. My teacher sits at a desk on the far side of the room scribbling on a piece of paper. A solitary stand is placed in the middle of the room. With slow deliberate steps I walk towards it.

"Hello Katara," Mr. Knepper, my teacher, says brightly, "I was hoping to see you. Start whenever you're ready."

I scoff at a scale sheet sitting on the stand; someone really serious about this audition would not have to look at the musical notes. Tapping my foot, I start on a deliberate beat. I shape the notes around me as easy as if I were breathing. A feeling of happiness ripples through me as Mr. Knepper smiles vibrantly as I build up to my highest point and hold it. Ending my solo, I fall purposely lazily down the scale.

"Katara that was wonderful," Mr. Knepper says genuinely, "probably the best I've heard today."

"Katara, have you checked to see if you got the solo yet?" Sokka asks me as we eat our candy bars for breakfast the next morning.

"Why?" I ask swallowing a bite of Snickers, a change from my normal Reeses.

"Well, I think you got it."

"How do you know?" I ask trying to hold back the urge to jump into the air giddily.

"I heard one of the boys in my grade complaining that you got the solo and he didn't," Sokka says with a look of sibling pride on his face.

"What is his name?" I ask thinking about my rude introduction into the audition room.

"Harry or Henry or something like that," Sokka says with a look of concentration on his face; a look only Sokka can make. A smirk comes onto my lips. That stupid Henry Jones got what was coming to him; a slap in the face I couldn't give him physically.

Slowly I make my way over to the band room, where the announcements talking about the Jazz division of the coming music week must be. Excitement fills me as I think about the dance, my first high school dance.

An announcement posted on the door reads: _September 23 "A taste of Jazz swing dance"_

_7 p.m – 11 p.m: Come with a friend or with a date and dance to the music played by _

_North High's own Jazz band and the Philip Henry quartet. The dance with be held in the _

_south gym, ninth graders through seniors are invited. The soloists performing in the _

_band shall be Katara Boliski, Michael Piazza, and George Gillinger. North High's band _

_will be playing for the first hour and after they have completed their repertoire of songs, _

_the Philip Henry quartet will provide the music for the next three hours of the swing _

_dance._

"Congratulations," a sly voice behind me says, "If I can say it, then so can you."

I turn slowly behind me and look right up into the clean face of Zuko. A huff escapes my lips and Zuko just smirks, staring straight into my eyes with his intense gaze, a gaze that makes me feel exposed.

"Boliski," he says tauntingly, "Are you Polish?"

"Maybe," I say, "But I'm not answering any questions. It would be unfair." I grin broadly as a confused look comes onto Zuko's face.

"Why would that be unfair?"

"I know nothing about you, so why should I answer any of your questions about me. You know my last name, but I don't know yours or anything about you." I refrain from saying _but I do know you're an arrogant stuck up who thinks you're better than everyone else_.

"It would probably be better for you if you knew nothing about me," Zuko says darkly, walking abruptly past me and down the hall. Instead of breaking my curiosity, which wasn't even there in the first place, he stimulates it. Zuko's lean frame disappears around a corner, and I walk in the direction of my next class, which ironically is Polish.

"Dzien dobry," my teacher announces brightly as the bell signaling class to start rings. I glance around at the other eight people in my class. Out of all the languages students are available to take Polish is always the least chosen, probably because it's the hardest. But I chose it to learn more about my culture, something many kids don't know anything about. An example would be Sokka, who chose to take German because the teacher is hot.

In one harmonious syllable the students answers back saying, "Czesc."

"To honor the upcoming music week, we will learn some musical phrases," Mr. Borski, my teacher says happily with his usual grin, looking like his favorite thing in the world is to teach Polish 1 to kids who don't even pay attention in the class. "Katara, please pass out our new study sheet. I think you'll enjoy it."

The title at the top reads _Robi wy lubicie żeby tańczyć?_ _Do you like to dance?_

"Katara! Stop fidgeting, you are going to drop you clarinet," Mr. Knepper says, but I can't take him seriously with so much excitement shining in his eyes. Nervously, I smooth the folds on my black dress. I sway suddenly in my two-inch sleek black high heels at the announcement that we are going to play in ten minutes, but this time not out of nervousness, just excitement.

I flick my long, brown hair out of my face. Tonight it hangs down in a wavy mass of curls, courtesy of Suki. I applied a light shade of blue eye-shadow to my eyes, and Suki lent me her mascara. According to Suki, if my eyes don't attract the boys we're all in trouble, because then no one will.

Slowly and carefully, I maneuver around the row of chairs and stands in front of me and take a seat in my own section. Mr. Knepper walks in front of us, and grinning says, "You ready?" Abruptly, the curtains open and at least two hundred faces stare straight up at the band in front of them.

The gym looks dazzling. The lights are dimmed to the perfect brightness, creating the perfect jazzy atmosphere. Large glittering cardboard trumpets, saxophones, clarinets, and trombones are hanging on the walls sparkling around the students. A large dance area is in the middle of a sea of tables draped in black tablecloths. The atmosphere has an air of excitement as dates arrive and boys and girls too shy to ask one another float near each other.

Aang waves at me with a broad smile on his face, standing next to Sokka and Suki, who is wearing a short midnight blue dress. Sokka looks as if he is in a complete trance, with glazed eyes and a dopey smile spread across his face. But as another boy whistles at Suki, he suddenly snaps out of it and glares at him with a deathly gleam in his eyes, and I can't help but giggle.

A few minutes later the lights dim and the principal walks onto the stage in his usual arrogant manner, checking his watch as if he has somewhere more important to be. I have never liked him, and probably never will. He has never been kind to me, and I suspect the reason is my lack of wealth, and family members having influence in any sort of society.

Before, I could stand to look at him, but he hit the ultimate low when he tried to convince Mr. Knepper out of my solo. He tried to have it given to one of the wealthier kids. But Mr. Knepper, thank God, stood strong in the decision he had made of giving it to me. Because of the principal's inexcusable behavior, I have resolved to give the best solo of the three chosen to play.

Mr. Taton, the principal, steps up to a podium placed on the stage specifically for him, and announces his pleasure at arranging this dance, which he didn't even do. He then talks for a whole thirty seconds and introduces the band that will playing after we finish, and he doesn't even mention the high school band. After his obviously not thought out speech, he leaves the stage and the gym altogether. Mr. Knepper, a little bewildered looking, takes his conducting stick and counts off our first song, and we begin.

A few of the braver students take the dance floor, and I can make out Aang in the middle of them, dancing crazily without a partner. After about three songs, most of the students are dancing. Most of them badly, since the only songs they know how to dance to are by fifty cent and Ludacris. I hold back the urge of laughing hysterically as a few girls try to grind to music by Glen Miller.

After about thirty minutes of the performance, the song featuring my solo is the next one we are going to play. We finish _String of Pearls_, and swiftly pull out the music for _Night Train_. Mr. Knepper flashes me a grin, and begins the song. Three minutes into it, all the other instruments stop, but the drums and my clarinet. Note by note, beat by beat, my instrument plays.

The whole room feels still as I play. I feel the sensation of floating, as the music fills me like a drug. I fly rapidly up and down the scale. In one breath I play the highest note I can muster, that actually sounds pretty. I blow steadily, keeping it vibrating around the room. The climax of my performance ends, and I finish with a drop down the scale. The room explodes into applauses, and happiness surges through me, filling me to the brim as if I were a jar of lemonade.

Too soon we end playing. "Good job," a boy I've never seen before says to me as I leave the stage and enter the dance floor, "You were the best." He has a cute grin on his face and I smile back. His unruly brown locks strangely don't look out of place with his nice black pants and tie. "Do you want to dance this song with me?"

"Okay," I answer happily. Suki, Aang, and Sokka can wait.

He twirls me to the middle of the gym, and surprisingly is a very good dancer. His body moves gracefully to the music, leading mine to whatever step he wishes. His big brown eyes shine as he twirls me close to his. The final chord plays, and he easily dips me down, holding me untill the music stops.

"Would you like to keep dancing with me?" he asks politely, his emotional eyes peering into mine.

"I really should find my friends," I say smiling, "But it would be very nice if you would help me find them. There are so many people in here."

"That would be great. But first may I know your name?"

"My name is Katara."

"And I'm Jet."

"Nice to meet you Jet," I say grinning. Maneuvering past the mass of people, we locate Sokka and the others at a table in the corner. Aang jumps up and runs toward me as he spots us, but noticing Jet, looks warily at him.

"Are you having fun?" I ask sitting down at the table, and pull up another chair for Jet.

"Oh yes," Suki says breathlessly. She takes a sip of her punch, and starts telling me the tale of her evening so far. Apparently Sokka isn't that great of a dancer, but she doesn't seem to care. Aang, on the other hand, has been the craziest. Consequently, he has been a hit with the ladies. As _Moonlight Serenade_, a dreamy slow song, floats through the air, Sokka jumps up and leads Suki away.

"Will you dance with me?" A voice behind my chair asks. I turn around, and stare into the face of Zuko, for the first time with a pleading look in his eyes. Jet sits straight up in his chair, like a hard wooden board. Slowly, I take Zuko's hand. Gently, he leads me to the floor. I step close to his body, and place my hands softy around his neck. Timidly, he lays his hands around my waist, and we sway slowly to the music.

"You look really nice," Zuko says quietly.

"Thanks," I gasp, surprised at the sound of Zuko's tone. His voice sounds more frightened than his usually cocky abrupt manner. Even though he always seems to have girl's hanging around him, I can tell he's shy when it comes to actually dancing with them.

Zuko looks even more handsome than usual in his black dress pants, black tie, and a clean white shirt with rolled up sleeves. Tonight I don't even care that any other time I would abuse myself for having such thoughts. The lack of light molds around Zuko's body and mine. His features look mysterious in the dark room, and I can't help but be reminded of my favorite character Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. His hazel eyes sparkle, peering into mine. They aren't intense, just soft and tender. Suddenly the urge to kiss him ripples through my whole body, but I hold back, too frightened he'll push me away.

Too soon the music stops. Zuko looks at me a little embarrassed, and I can't help but giggle. He starts blushing cutely and mumbles something too quiet for me to hear.

Jet claims me for the next dance, but his graceful steps don't occupy my thoughts, it's the person watching me from the corner I can't stop thinking about.

**Hoped you liked it!!! I enjoyed writing it. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar the Last Airbender**

**Ch.5 **"_What brings us down makes us stronger."_

This day again: September 30. Each year, the same feeling off regret, remorse, and bitter sadness hitting me like an angry tornado. The one day in the year I wish I could just disappear from. If only it could just fall off the calendar, and just vanish into the oblivion. But the world is not always kind, mostly the opposite, and if we always got what we wanted, my life would be drastically changed.

Slowly, I slip on a plain gray t-shirt; my arms feeling like lead pipes hanging from my shoulders. I can feel my head drooping at a slight angle, as if my thoughts are too strong for it to handle. Carefully, I walk out the door.

"Good morning!" Azula cries jolting my head upright. Mai, Ty Lee, and she are leaning against the wall opposite me, their heads perched perfectly straight. They all have big smiles on their faces, Mai's even a little brighter than normal. Suddenly I my stomach heaves, the glistening look in their eyes not giving me a comforting feeling.

"Oh dear," Azula says feigning sympathy, "You don't look too jolly today, no indeed. Actually I heard from a boy in my class that in sixth grade you burst out in tears on this very day. In fact it looks like you are about to cry right now." I can see her purposely grinding her teeth waiting for me to answer, waiting for me to break down under her pressure.

Silently, I turn to start walking down the hallway, but Azula grabs my collar sneering, "You want to know what I think. I think since no one ever visits you and sadly you never receive any visits either, someone special must have died on this day, leaving you and your brother all by yourself; perhaps your mother or father?" My stomach flips, and then falls to the floor. I start to blink rapidly, willing myself to not cry in front of Azula no matter what. The floor shimmers under my eyes, turning an unclear color of beige.

"Do you want me to get you some tissues?" Mai says in her same monotone voice, but I can hear the mocking tone beneath it.

"What are you guys doing?" a livid voice says. I can hear the anger in his pitch, but I don't bother to look up. The unchanging floor looks too appealing in my eyes. Its hard tiles aren't spewing any hurtful words or causing the pain swelling in my chest. Although, the pain builds year after year, always feeling like it's going to burst on this awful day.

"Go away, and leave her alone. This is my last warning," The angry voice in front of me spits. A few seconds past, maybe even a few minutes, and I still don't look away from the floor.

"Katara are you okay?" A voice says gently, lightly grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the ground and against the wall. I look up into the face of Zuko, genuine worry in his features. This time I can't hold back the tears as they well up inside me eyes like a waterfall trying to break through a dam.

"What did they do?" He asks softly.

"No, it wasn't just them," I say quietly, gasping a little, "It's much deeper than that."

Surprising me, he puts his hand gently on my back. His touch is light, barely there, but I can still feel it.

"Come with me," Zuko murmurs, pulling me onto my feet and leading me somewhere unknown, "We can talk, but only if you want to."

Without protest, I walk right next to him. Silently we travel down the halls, Zuko shielding me from the view of prying eyes. I feel miserable. One of the only people I want to be strong in from of finds me a vulnerable mess, practically collapsing to the floor. I say nothing, but nothing needs to be said.

Finally we arrive at a dorm room, after what seemed like a mile long walk. One side of the room looks like a twister traveled through it, and the other side is neat and well taken care of. Zuko leads me to the clean side of the room, and gently places me on the bed. I can't help but smell the fresh musk scent of him on the blankets, even though I'm sitting up.

Zuko just stares at me, not forcing anything out I don't wish to tell. His face is placid, his eyes questioning. Slowly and deliberately he lifts his slightly bent head. A muscle twitches in his finely boned face, but every other part of him is still.

"If it makes you feel any better, I never get any visits also. I don't go home on the holidays either, but Azula does," Zuko says consciously, a look on his face hiding all emotion. His voice is quiet, not strained or unnatural, just there.

"I haven't had a real home in years, just living here or there," I say softly, awkward to my own self, "None have been great, some of them okay."

"I've lived here since the eighth grade. I came here a few weeks after my fourteenth birthday, but I'm not alone and neither are you. You have your brother, and I have my uncle. He teaches a class in the middle school," Zuko says, his voice sounding calm, but I can hear a thinness masking the serene tone.

"When I was seven, I was sent to live in a home for girls, but it didn't work out very well. Sokka and I were put into the control of a foster care program. Most people didn't want to take care of two children, especially if they come with emotional problems."

"You seem to be okay now," Zuko replies, a note of inquiry in his tone, but the question is not formed into words.

"Maybe, but I wasn't then…I suffered from terrible anxiety. I would cry all the time. I would only sleep or go in rooms that had fire extinguishers. Periodically throughout the day, I would check to make sure the stoves were turned off… and the lamps weren't too hot and take plugs out of sockets…I was always paranoid about a fire."

"A fire," Zuko says softly, reaching up a hand and touching the pink patch of burned skin on his face. "What happened because of a fire?"

"Many things," I croak, "But it was a long time ago."

The only noise vibrating off the walls in the small corridor are my squeaking shoes. Every step fills my ear with an annoying high pitched hum. Slowly I walk toward the front hall, trying to forget what just happened, praying that Zuko does too. The first three periods of the school day are over, but I still don't go to class. I have no trouble sneaking past a teacher and running straight out into the large lawns of the front entrance. Silently I walk to a large tree hidden from the windows of the school, just in case any wandering eyes peer out. I sit and just think, too many thoughts occupying my head.

"You skipping class too?" A voice says, coming from above me. Glancing up I see Jet, easily balancing on a tree branch, "You know they give detentions for that."

"What about you?" I ask brashly, "Are you excluded from detentions, or are they so used to it now that they just put you on the list every week."

"I'm not going to lie, I do get my fair share, but luckily some of the teachers have a soft spot for me."

"Yeah, I bet you can smooth talk your way out of anything, unlike Sokka who just gets the detention and has to deal with it," I say freely, relaxing in the dark shade of the tree.

Jet just chuckles, and drops down gracefully landing effortlessly next to me.

"Why are you skipping?" Jet asks. "You don't strike me as the person who would normally do this."

I breathe in deeply, and sigh. "I guess I just felt like it."

Jet glances at me out of the corner of his eye, knowing I'm not telling the whole truth, but doesn't question any further. A breeze picks up in the air, and the late summer clouds change shape quickly in the sky, forming many different objects reminding me of past memories. The atmosphere is peaceful, showing me all the glorious things to be enjoyed. The heavy, rich scent of coming fall is in the air, and I feel the need to start afresh. Time has past, and now I can stop thinking about memories I wish to suppress. It's time to start living.

**Hope you like it. It's shorter than others, but I felt like this was a good place to end it. I had written a lot of it, but didn't like it, so I had to redo it, so my update was kind of late. Please review. **


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